


Expectations

by Gavranica



Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Time, unspoken emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25572070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavranica/pseuds/Gavranica
Summary: A raven can never be sure what his mistress expects from him. Inspired by "Heart of the Moors" by Holly Black.
Relationships: Diaval/Maleficent (Disney)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> "Humans love nothing that does not fill them with fear"  
> "I'm not afraid of you," he said.  
> She looked at him for a long moment, not sure she had heard him correctly. "And?"  
> "Oh, nothing," he continued. "I suppose I'm not human."  
> "No," said Maleficent, placing her finger under his chin, her sharp nail pressing against his skin. "Nor, as you remind me regularly, woukd you want to be. Now, do you know what I expect of you?"  
> He raised a single brow. "One can never be entirely sure, mistress.'  
> "I expect you not to fail me", she said, turning away from him in a sweep of black cloth. She looked over her shoulder. "Or Aurora"...
> 
> (From: Heart of the Moors, by Holly Black)
> 
> After reading this part, I had to ask myself...what did Diaval think she expected of him?  
> I whipped this up while trying to save a burnt lunch.

Edited slightly to tie-in with 8th chapter of [Of feathers and skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26550445/chapters/64721872)

oOo

A raven could never be certain what his mistress expected of him at a given moment.

He meant that when he'd said that. Of course, if she had asked, he would say that he simply meant he never knew what kind of mission he would be sent to do. And while she was far too clever to believe that, she was obviously uncomfortable enough with his indirect profess of love that she was unlikely to press the matter.

 _Stupid, stupid,_ _stupid babbling idiot_ , he chided himself. _Feather-brained, witless excuse for a sentient creature. You really should have_ _known better. What did you expect, after all?_

Well, for one, he expected that after almost two decades of companionship, of shared food and nest, of heartache and laughter, of saved lives and one child nurtured together, of countless battles of wit, that he could, maybe, perhaps, once in a while, express his fondness of her, indirectly of course, without her bolting like a wounded hawk and reminding him harshly on his place in her world.

Which brought him back to the matter of expectations.

She rarely spoke to him with softness or gentleness. He had accepted that fact from the start. Even at the best of times, her manner was brisque, firm, demanding. She was self-centered, even if she wasn't actually selfish; her attention was turned inwards, emotionally, and she was only marginally aware that she was hurtful in her lack of awareness of other people's needs and wants. This he expected and accepted. It was how she was; only Aurora could hope to receive a softer, more empathic approach from Maleficent, and even her not always so.

That being as it was, he had been surprised the first time, long ago...

_______________________________________

...when Aurora was still a wee little thing and Maleficent's bitterness and pain at their worst, when she expected him to sit next to her in her nest, one warm evening, and asked him, with a quiet voice and a faraway gaze, to tell her if he had missed his family.

This he had not expected.

He told her of his brothers and sisters and the huge unkindness they were a part of, as juvenile ravens tend to flock together before they mature fully and form bonds with their mates.

He admitted her that he did, in fact, keep check on his surviving siblings over the years, watching them from afar and making sure to the best of his abilities that they were as safe as possible, along with their new families.

He managed to strategically not mention his mother and father, or to show his sorrow - he hoped- at the mention of brothers and sisters who did not have the chance to live long. He didn't want to put himself in position to be overcome with sadness in front of her. She wouldn't abide weakness.

"But do you still love them?" She aked then. "And do they still love you?"

He was expected to answer, so there was no dodging around this one.

"I do", he confessed quietly.

"But do they love you back? Is the attention you spend on them rewarded?" Her voice was still quiet but sharper now, as though she was set to wring out of him the answer she would be satisfied with.

"I don't think they recognize me as their kin anymore."

He didn't think he would be able to speak that out loud, but he did. Even if his throat felt strangely constrincted.

"Oh?" Her eyebrow arched and she finally turned to look at him. Suddenly, he wished that treir conversation would change its course.

"How come?"

"I am changed, mistress", he looked down at his long legs, at his awkward talon-like fingernails; not quite human, not quite birdlike. "They feel I am a different creature than the one they used to know. They see I am a human in their brother's feathers, or their brother wearing a human skin, and it frightens them."

And they are absolutely correct, he thought.

"Oh", she repeated stiffly.

The tightness in his throat was beginning to creep upwards, in his face. His eyes felt stingy.

"I am sorry." Her expression revealed absolutely nothing, but those were among the kindest words she had heard him say to him. At least in broad daylight, away from nightmares.

"It's all right. It's actually better this way. I can help them find food and protect them much more easily as I am. Sometimes it takes a little cunning on my part so they don't figure out it comes from me, or they wouldn't accept. But I am more useful to them this way."

She frowned. "But that's just a lot of hard work from which you gain absolutely nothing. You said just now that they don't love you back. Why bother?"

"Of course I gain something. They are still alive, and my nepheys stand a better fighting chance."

Again, an eyebrow made its way up on her forehead.

"Pardon my confusion, but wouldn't that be their gain, and not yours?"

"That's how love works. I'm happy that I can help, and that they breathe under the same sky as me. Otherwise it would be a trade, not love, if I gave only what I expected to have repaid."

"Is that why you have tears in your eyes as we speak? For all the hapiness you feel?" she snapped, to his discomfort His heart started going like a hummingbird, and the tightness in his chest and the stinging in his eyes increased. Also, the world become somehow murky around him.

She shuffled about and muttered something that might have been 'Ridiculous creature'. Then, she fell silent.

Afraid that she'll send him away, as she obviously didn't agree with his logic and whenever they disagreed, she had the habit of abruptly changing him into his original form and thus effectively shutting him up, he offered hastly: "I miss touching, though".

He regretted the words at the same instant, because her head snapped to look at him.

"Preening", he offered quickly. "And...such".

By _such_ , he meant cuddling and huddling together for the night and against the cold. He thought feeding one another to show affection, and leaning against the familiar body for comfort.

Now, he was a bit unfair here. It wasn't as they never touched. Her habit of petting him was one of the rare blessings in his life, and rather than him getting used to it over the years, it was steadily driving him more and more crazy each day, little by little. He was intoxicated by it, probably addicted to it, like men were to wine, and he was certain that she was well aware of it.

And of couse, sometimes, just sometimes, when her nights were particularly difficult, or she deduced that he was particularly worthy of an extra bit of her attention, she would call for him to spend the night huddled up next to her. 

But all the touching ever only happened on her initiative. The nights of sharing a nest, few and far in between as they were, were never spoken of in the light of day. And of course, in all those instances, the was always a bird. Only a bird. Not exactly only a servant, not exactly an equal friend. 

And for all the thrill and joy of her precious touch, he missed to be touched like an equal.

But he couldn't say any of that to Maleficent. Also, he just might have reminded her that she no longer has the wings to preen.

 _Well_ _done, you useless_ _simpleton_ , he thought to himself, and the stuffines in his chest and face warmed his eyes even more, and he could no loger see anything clearly, and two uninvited tears spilled out of his downcast eyes. He waited for her to turn her into something mute and unpleasant.

He was shivering lightly, expecting the worst.

He didn't expect to feel something slender and cold against his cheek, gently, almost hesitantly wiping a tear away.

He froze. He went completely still, as if hiding from a predator's gaze.

"Am I not touching you sometimes?", she asked. "I seem to recall that you quite enjoy when I stroke your feathers, if your purring is any giveaway."

"You are, mistress. Sometimes.", he whispered the last word. _As_ _one does to a_ _pet_ , he didn't say.

They went silent. She seemed to be hearing and analyzing everything that went unspoken. He was still unmoving like a statue.

"Your heart is way too kind for your own good, Diaval."

He didn't answer. Again, her cold hand moved up and she run a thumb over the remaining moisture from his cheek; then, a palm rested on his hair, just behind his ear, where she knew he liked to be caressed in his raven form.

In his human form, he now discovered yet again, he liked it immensly more.

The touch sent a very familiar sensation down his back and in his belly, low down. His skin tingled all over; the feathers in his hair stood on their ends, and had he been in his bird form, he'd be puffed up like a cotton ball now. His eyes closed as he tried to suppres a shaky sigh. He hoped she wasn't actually about to snap his neck while he was melting into a feathered puddle under her palm.

"I suppose you also miss mating kind of touch, too", she said off-handedly.

His eyes snapped open in alarm. Even more so because her words seemed to increase the sensation her touch was sending from his feathered head to his taloned toe.

"Can't really miss what I never had", he replied, his voice raspier than ever.

"You never mated?"

"No, mistress", he smiled drunkenly. He left all pretense of having a dignity anyway. "Was too young. And now..." he trailed away.

"Not even a quick roll with some bypassing, pretty she-raven at some hot summer afternoon, no obligations?" She smirked.

Instead of an answer, he just rolled his eyes at her and closed them again, leaning his head in her palm, praying to any feathered or furry deity in existence that this moment lasts at least a little bit more.

"Well", she said, matter-of-factly, and with a dramatic sigh, "apparently it falls to me that I have to teach you everything, doesn't it?"

He stared at her, again frozen, alarmed and unmoving. His ears deceived him, certainly. Or, even more likely, his mind.

"However", she continued, very still herself, "you are not expected to comply. This is not something you are obliged to do. I want you to understand this. Am I perfectly clear, Diaval?"

There was something intense in her eyes now, fixing him to the spot. She looked dangerous now, terrifying and beautiful befond words. He dared to raise a trembling hand and caress her face like she had been casessing his own. She didn't flinch, snap, hiss or curse him. Rather, she took his hand in her own and informed him, in no uncertain, if non-verbal terms, that she expected him to move that hand much lower down her person, thank you very much.

"Mistress", he managed to croak out, barely hearing his own voice through the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears, "you should know that I have absolutely no idea what am I doing".

"Oh, don't worry", she whispered in his ear, adjusting herself to accomodate his exploring hand. The fanged, predatory grin she offered him was probably meant to be reassuring. "I won't leave you directionless, and I expect you to be an apt learner".

And he was.

Granted, she was a good teacher, too. Not that he would admit it, of course. He'd rather attribute her very obvious, very vocal bliss to his innate mating prowess, thank you very much. A male must have his pride.

 _What does this mean_ , his heart fluttered, exhillarated beyond measure as they lay, legs intertwined, both breathing heavily. _What does this mean, what does this mean, what does this mean?_

That faithful raven heart of his chirruped that this can, of course, mean only that his long lasting, secret wish has been granted, that she loved him as he loved her, or at least accepted him as her mate. The thought was making the beat of his heart go sky high.

But his human mind was telling him that that his heart was not safe to listen to.

He watched Maleficent come around from her blissful stupor, her breathing slowing down and her eyes finally fluttering open. He feared what he would see in them.

She gave him that heavy-lidded, cold stare, and he knew with sickening certainty that his heart really should have known better.

He lay there still, afraid to breathe, and he suspected thst Maleficent not only heard and felt his thundering heartbeat, but enjoyed his agony.

"Well", she spoke in her low, regal voice,"that was an interesting way to pass the time".

And she was gliding gracefully to her feet, in all her naked glory, facing him all the time, so he wouldn't see her mutilated back, he knew. All through their lovemaking ( _mating_ , his mind corrected his ridiculous heart) she didn't turn her back to him once, and he knew better than to try his luck and touch it.

(Why she bothered hiding now was unclear to him; he had seen her back, several times in fact, when the wounds were fresh and she expected of him, reluctantly but with a severe tone to her voice, that he helps her with tending to them. He never minded then, and he wouldn't mind now.)

_Now she's going to say that this meant nothing._

"I expect you not to let this enjoyable pasttime get to your head, Diaval. It meant nothing, other that exactly that- an enjoyable pasttime. It changes nothing".

"Of course, mistress."

"And naturally, it served the purpose of broadening your general experience in a human body. One can never know when you might stumble upon a nice, amicable lady with potentially crucial piece of information. Imagine my displeasure if your lack of practice would cause her to withold that information on behalf of your inability to make her satisfactorily entertained and talkative."

"If that is so, mistress, I suppose that it would be wise if we practiced on a regular basis," he spoke before his brain caught up with his tongue. But really, it was either melting down in tears again or butting heads with her, and he would gladly spend a week as a cockroach if it meant a week of piece and quiet, away from vain hopes, heartaches and generally feeling like a dirt rag. He began fumbling around for his clothes.

"Hm", she seemed to actually contemplate the possibility, rather than contemplating eleven different ways of punishing him for his cheekiness, "I suppose that would be wise."

He paused while pulling his trousers up, causing him to stop mid-calf, staring blankly at her and, he knew, looking like a complete idiot.

"But I expect you not to press the matter", she emphasized with a thin finger. "Not once I will tolerate you pestering me with requests of such kind. Do you understand?"

"I would never dream of it, mistress."

"Wouldn't you?" She scrutinized him, pulling her robe on her shoulders. "No, I suppose you would not. Why are you still here, in my nest, Diaval?"

"You called me here, mistress, and dare I say, you kind of held me back a little."

"So I did." Now she turned her back to him. There was a barely noticeable crack to her voice, a slightest tremble to her hand as she buttoned the robe. Or he just imagined it. "I will have no further need for you until tomorrow. Good night, Diaval."

She flicked her fingers and sent him airbound in his feathers. It had been some time since he had been so relieved to be back in his original form. Ravens had no tears, and had much easier time discerning bitter from sweet. 

He rose up, up. He'll return to his nest next to hers much later, when darkness can cover his eyes and Maleficent is hopefully peacefully asleep. Obviously, she didn't want him around at the moment.

"Oh, Diaval?"

He pivoted in the air without a sound, flapping his wings to hover, cocking his head expectantly.

"It's getting dark. Don't be long."

He had no opportunity to investigate if she was aware that she gave him very different instructions in a span of seven seconds, because she retreated to her abode in an angry swirl of dark robes and disappeared from sight. _________________________________________

That had been the first time she had selflessly taken upon herself the undoubtly taxing and arduous task of lecturing him.

More followed.

 _I must be a very slow student,_ he often chuckled inwardly _, if she feels she needs to be so dedicated._

And so, with a sigh and a memory of many things that Maleficent expected of him during their many years of duty, companionship, heartache, laughter, not to mention their many, many sessions of her educating him in the fine art of using his human body to the best of his abilities...how could a raven be sure what she expected of him just now?

She was tense as the whipcord now. He should have known better. But later, when the darkness comes and the Moors go quiet and she turns to tending her long, silky hair for the night, and he helps her in preening his wings as he did every evening, for he was nothing if not a good servant, he will whisper softly next to her ear if she thought, considering their recent affairs with Perceforest's general population, if it would be advisable for her to remind him of the technicalities that human mating practices comprised of.

Just to be on the safe side.


End file.
